Misfit Toys
by alittlebitdifferent394
Summary: AU with characters from Harry Potter and Percy Jackson at a boarding school for troubled kids. Harry/Ginny, Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Luna/Neville, Rachel/Luna, Leo/Nico, Percy/Annabeth, Remus/Sirius, Hazel/Frank, Dean/Seamus. Mention of self-harm, suicide, eating disorders, drugs/alcohol, etc.


**Chapter 1**

**Nico Di Angelo **

_I'm really going to hate it here,_ I think as I meet my new roommates. Fortunately, there are only two of them, whereas most dorms here hold four students. One of them looks like he's never seen a hairbrush before and has a weird scar on his forehead. The other looks vaguely like a Latino Santa's elf, and from the way he holds himself, I can say he's almost definitely ADHD.

"I take it you're our new roommate?" Says the kid with the crazy black hair and the lightning-shaped scar. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. This is Leo," he says, pointing to the other boy.

Leo, who had been tinkering with what looked like some sort of car part, climbs down from the top bunk and stretches out a grease-covered hand to me. I stare at him. He must be crazy if he thinks there's any way I'm shaking that. When he finally pulls his hand back, looking only slightly offended, I introduce myself.

"Nico," I say. "Um…" I hesitate. "Where should I?-"

"Oh," A look of recognition crosses onto Leo's elfish face. "You can take either of the remaining bunks, and the left closet."

The room itself is actually sort of nice, despite the mess that Harry and Leo have made of it in the short week that they've been here. It's much bigger than I expected, too. The floors are hardwood, and only a little bit scratched up. On one wall, there's a large window with parted navy blue curtains. There are two sets of bunk beds on the wall perpendicular to the window. Leo has taken over the top bunk on the set on the left, while Harry has the bottom bunk on the opposite bed. Both boys have their own blankets and pillows, but I can see that each bunk is covered with a comforter the same shade of blue as the curtains. On the wall opposite the window, there are two fairly sized closets, and a bathroom with a shower. I head to the closet on the left and sit my suitcase inside. I can unpack it later. Then I toss my backpack on the other bottom bunk, because while I do typically prefer the top bunk, I'd rather not be stuck lying next to Leo night after wretched night.

I sigh. It could be worse, I suppose, especially for a boarding school created for fuckups. My dad said he sent me here because he thought it would help me, but honestly? I think he just didn't know what else to do with me. I guess I really scared him this summer, and he doesn't know how to take care of me, especially now that Bianca's gone where she can't help him deal with me.

Not that I need taking care of.

It would have been much easier if he had just let me die.

_Ah shit,_ I think as I check the clock on my phone. Upon registering me for this hellhole, my dad was given the option to sign me up to speak with one of the school's many counselors. My first session is in ten minutes. Nearly forgotten anxiety rises up in my chest again and I struggle to keep my breathing under control. The only time I've ever had to talk to someone was during my stay in the psych ward. I hated every second of it.

Then I realize that I have no idea where I'm actually supposed to go. The map of the campus they gave to me when I registered got thrown away.

Well, I sort of tore it up in my dad's face.

Oops.

The last thing that I want to do is ask Harry or Leo where to go. Despite the fact that I know they're both probably fuckups, and that I'm at a school that consists entirely of fuckups, I don't want to let them know I'm a fuckup.

Deciding that it's my only option, I ask. "Um, do either of you know where I can find Dr. Lupin?"

"Yeah, he's-" Harry starts, before Leo jumps off of his bunk to interrupt.

"Yikes, they scheduled you for a session on the first day? You must be one of the _really_ crazy ones."

I feel myself turning red. I turn to walk out the door, figuring I can just go up to the office and ask. Leo follows me.

"Woah, hey," he protests as I slam the door in his face.

He finally gets outside and catches up with me. "Hey, it was just a joke. Besides, we're all mad here." He gives me a grin that is so incredibly goofy, I almost laugh.

Instead, I glare at him. He throws his hands up in defense. "Let me at least show you the way."

Grudgingly, I agree, knowing I don't have time for anything else.

He doesn't shut up the whole way there.

"So how old are you?"

"15," I answer.

"I'm 16," he tells me.

I want to tell him that I really couldn't care less, but I don't.

"So are you a freshman?"

"Sophomore."

"Me too." He smiles. "Do you ever smile?"

"No."

"You're lucky you got Lupin. He's the cool one. Harry has him. I got stuck with McGonagall. She's alright, I guess, but kinda tough."

"Is everyone here in therapy?"

"No, not necessarily," he responds, seemingly glad that I'm finally showing some interest in the conversation. "Most are though, so don't worry about that. Welcome to the island of misfit toys."

Does this guy speak entirely in movie references?

Leo wishes me good luck when we arrive at Dr. Lupin's office.

Dr. Remus Lupin is maybe 30 years old, though his eyes suggest that he's somehow older than his age. His face is covered in scars, and I'm almost tempted to ask where they came from, but I don't. He's wearing a cardigan, which comes across as a little dorky to me, but whatever.

After we introduce ourselves, he has me sit on the black leather couch across from his desk. He pulls out his chair and turns it so that when he sits down, he's facing me. Then he has me explain, in my own words, why I'm here.

First question and I'm already stumped.

"Because- Because everybody thinks I'm a fuckup."

He remains calm, and seemingly indifferent to my dropping of the F-bomb. "Do _you_ think you're a fuckup?"

I suppose I should have seen that one coming.

"I don't know. Yeah, I guess. Problem is I don't exactly give a fuck."

"You don't care that you're a 'fuckup'?"

"Why should I? The world's full of fuckups. Full to bursting with 'em."

He considers this for a second. "What would you say is a fuckup?"

I don't really know how to answer that one either.

"Me. My dad. Everyone in this godforsaken place."

He doesn't seem to have anything to say to this, so he looks down on the clipboard sitting in his lap. "It says here that you attempted to commit suicide last month?"

I grunt.

"You were then kept in the psychiatric ward until just last week?"

I nod timidly.

"It also says here that you also have made a habit of Non-Suicidal-Self-Injury?"

"If that's a fancy way of saying cutting, sure."

"The doctor diagnosed you with Major Depressive Disorder?"

"Yup."

"But you refused medication?"

I didn't want to have to rely on that crap. I nod once more.

"Would you, at this point, consider it?"

I shake my head this time.

"I see."

Then he has me fill out a questionnaire about how I've felt the past few weeks. I don't lie completely, but I downplay how much of an affect the depression has on me. I mark that I've had no suicidal thoughts.

"Well, that's about it for today. This session was just about us getting to know each other a little bit better." He stares directly into my eyes as he speaks and I look away. He then hands me a card with my next appointment on it, which is next week. It also has his phone number on it, and he tells me to call him if I'm having a 'crisis'.

Yeah right.


End file.
